


I Need You

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella (2015)
Genre: F/M, comfort continuation, comfort project, finally happened, kitella - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ella is plagued by nightmares about her past life and, knowing she can’t fall asleep alone, summons the courage to approach Kit, and as this develops into a habit the pair grow even loser together, both finding comfort in the other in different ways.</p><p>A multi-chapter continuation and expansion of my previous oneshot, "Comfort" feating new material and edited renditions of my previous works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmares

Ella felt the maids eyes on her back as she undressed for bed, suddenly stiffening as she became aware of the scars that tore down her back in rigid lines. She wasn't very used to being helped to dress and had completely forgotten to cover her shoulders as she loosened her slip, shrugging it off her shoulders as she walked towards the screen. As soon as the golden panes hid her, Ella overhead cautious whispers break out between the two young girls, and Ella forced herself to smile, although no one could see. She would react the same as well, Ella supposed, calmly folding the thin slip over the screen and being promptly handed her nightshift. When she stepped back out, her composure renewed, she watched the girls expressions change, looking to her though she were a wounded animal. Ella tried her best not to resent the fact that she would be the talk of the upstairs servants within the hour, once they were dismissed, word traveling like wildfire in such close quarters. And, of course, ladies maids pass on ‘useful’ information to their mistresses.

Her mothers mantra helped Ella on days like this, courage and kindness waining as the hours ticked by, spent in the company (this time) of a band of ladies recommended by numerous sources to be considered as ladies in waiting and then an assembly of royal physicians and respected doctors, all individually examining her for the better part of the afternoon. They were nothing if not thorough, both the ladies and but it all made Ella a little victimised and uncomfortable, and dinner failed to lighten her mood. Kit had been absent, closeted in a meeting with Phillip, the former Captain of the Guard and newly declared Grand Duke. Ella had felt quite alone, and terribly sorry for Kit and the position he was in.

She shouldn't have eaten all the poached salmon, Ella resolved as she slipped into bed, feeling a little queasy as the numbingly frigid sheets enveloped her. Nine days into December and everyone agreed that the first snow would fall by the end of the month, the temperature dropping dramatically as the season officially changed into winter and the frost began to for in bigger and bigger clumps, resembling snowfall. At least she wasn't in her old abode, curled in a ball on her pathetic excuse of a bed in the attic, or spending the night by the kitchen fireplace, but recalling how bone-chillingly freezing those nights were only brought on other memories. Burying her face in her pillow, inhaling the smell of the flowers Ella knew were folded beneath the case, fresh Christmas Roses picked that very morning for that particular purpose. Ella had been surprised when she accompanied Clara, one of her maids, into the garden, all the Christmas Roses she had known possessing a faintly musty perfume. The smell calmed her, even if it was something unfamiliar.

Her arms went over her head, hands gripping fistfuls of the pillow and Ella pushed her knees up to her ribcage, praying that sleep would take her and end the day, and that her sleep would be more restful than the previous weeks.  

Meanwhile, Kit’s mind was consumed with worry and doubt, his faith in human goodness temporarily postponed, upon the realisation that all was not well for Ella. He had not expected her to be perfectly fine after merely two months at the palace, in a warm loving environment with his support and company, but he hadn’t been made aware of many things, some things that Kit would have preferred to be told by his future wife. He wasn’t distressed over that, however, he knew that it was difficult for her to speak about her life with her stepfamily, afraid of casting them in an unfavourable light as much as disliking the memories.

The footman he had sent to inform Ella that he would not be dining with her seemed to have considered it prudent to report that His Majesty was meeting with Captain, and that was to a degree true. Acting on no instruction, he had told Ella’s maid a half true. Kit was, indeed, meeting with Phillip, but he was also meeting with a number of physicians and no one was discussing the previously disposed Grand Duke.

Prudence had been the one to suggest the examination, and Kit had wished he had the ability to melt on the spot when she did. Ella had gone along with the idea, despite Kit’s insistence that it was not necessary, wishing to uphold tradition. With the wedding days away it could not have been put off any longer, and so Kit had begrudgingly organised the difficult event, and completely denied the possibility that he felt more uncomfortable about it than Ella was.

On a conscious level he knew there was nothing to worry about on the doctors part, seeing as almost all of them were middle aged and very matter of fact in their composure. Indeed, as Kit read through the last of the international replies to the wedding invitations, he began to muse on how many men of healing he actually liked. There had been Doctor Crane, but he had retired years ago, a few months after his mother passed, in fact, being the last light hearted physician he had ever met, excluding James Cole, the under court physician and field medic that Kit had met in the war and brought back. Then again, a dying man hardly wanted a jolly doctor.

His musings had been cut short by the arrival of the four physicians and Phillip (who was still determined to be referred to as ‘Captain’), who went on to relay some obvious details. For one, Ella was undernourished, and reluctantly responded to Leigh’s, the Royal Physician Grai’s apprentice, questions with concerning answers. She had, in their eyes, survived off little more than scraps for a considerable time, and as a result was much thinner than recommended.  
“There is a marked improvement, however, Your Majesty.” Grai insisted, under the pretence that he could assess someones health by simply looking at them close up, as he supposedly had done Ella when first he was introduced to her.

“The new diet has certainly helped her physical appearance.” Cole agreed, nodding behind his thick glasses from his low chair in the corner. “Her skin has a better colour and she’s putting on more weight, but there are still some reservations I have.” At his comment, Kit heard Grai snort. The young expert looked to Kit for permission to continue, which was granted with a kindly nod, the even younger king interested in what he had to say.

“She hasn’t been sleeping, I suspect, or it is broken. It is not so uncommon for a person to be plagued by continuos night visions up to years passed a, well, horrifying ordeal.” Kit knew this, as did Phillip, but both men were somewhat bemused by what the physician was suggesting.

“Soldiers have such mental scarring, not mistreated serving girls.” Grai chided sharply, and realising his error within seconds of the conclusion of his sentence he looked to the king, who’s mild irritation washed away any fear of a reproach.

“The Lady Ella would had to have suffered some physical trauma if what you believe is true, indeed?” Phillip intercepted, posing his question to the medic rather than the general practitioner.

“Not necessarily,” Cole’s eyes lingered on Kit as he replied, and the youthful king felt an overwhelming sense of invasion, as if reminded of an old shame, “but we know that she has.”

“It is not proper to disclose such details!” Grai rebuffed, bristling at the inappropriateness of where the conversation was headed.

“Unless in a manner that would justify a diagnosis.” Leigh meekly argued, cautious of the elder gentleman, who had a notorious temper in regard to his underlings.

“All facts must be taken into consideration, and reported back to me.” Kit evenly informed the trusted senior, now decidedly intrigued and more than a little worried. “Even if,” he added “the subject is not considered suitable for polite conversation.” The sole reason, traditionally, an examination was called for was to determine whether or not the princess destined to marry into the royal family was capable of bearing children, and that made the very meeting unbecoming for refined men to participate in.  
“She has scars, Your Majesty.” Grai said grudgingly. “Prudence was kind enough to help with her hands when first she arrived,” Kit remembered the horror on the housekeepers face when she caught sight of Ella’s well worked hands, “but there is some old evidence of broken skin.”

“Which are?” Kit pressed on as Phillip’s eyes narrowed, seeing connections that Kit unconsciously denied.

“There are a few abnormalities on her forearms, most likely purely accidental, but there are some large scars, healed lacerations that I do not believe were unintentional, or made by her.” Kit felt sick, focusing on his hands on the desk and trying to deny to himself the obvious truth.

“How, do you believe, were they made?” He sighed, and it was Leigh who spoke, voice more authoritative as he began to discuss a field he knew well.

“It is common in most households for the housekeeper or butler to undertake some punishments when disobedience or insolence are in question, and I have seen a number of people, from stable boys to chambermaids, that bear similar markings to Her Ladyship.” Leigh had been, before the beginning of his seemingly eternal apprenticeship, a well respected doctor in the town, and well loved by many of the commons, making house calls and holding a surgery like his father before him. “Some severe parents, even, may take it as a form of discipline, but few would go to such lengths to ensure the lesson was learnt.”

“What do you intend to suggest, Doctor?” Phillip challenged, his tone hostile.

“That the Lady Tremaine had, on an occasion or two, physical harmed her to the extent where she may have taken an object, apparently thin and long, and repeatedly struck her with it.” A rod.

  
And so Kit fell into an uneasy sleep, hounded by the despicable fact that a monster such as Lady Tremaine had been forgiven for her cruelty.

~

Economies had to be taken into account, and Ella understood that just as much, if not more than, her stepfamily. The household had already been dismissed, leaving Ella in the loving hands of her stepfamily, but now, with the cost of three new dresses a fortnight finally overcoming the demanding trio, valuable possessions were being sold. The first to go was her fathers clothes, and the next were the many artefacts he had collected on his travels, like a vase she remembered him presenting to her mother. It was simply decorated down the white ceramic sides, painted flowers with brightly coloured petals vining across the surface, and Ella loved it just as much as her mother had. Which was why, when all their possessions were being sold, Ella had moved it out of her stepmothers eye, to drastic consequences.

Ella awoke late that night, heart hammering and breathing erratic as sweat ran off her in droplets, tears staining her face as she forced back sobs and shook. Dragging herself to a sitting position she slowly tried to calm herself, focusing on the ethereal light the moon forced through her curtains, her own hand over her mouth to restrain the noise. She had screamed aloud and woken herself up, making even more sound would not be wise if Ella wanted to avoid questions. If anyone heard, however, no one came and she was not sure how she felt about it. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she finally regulated her breathing, slowly moving her index finger down the disfigured tissue of her upper forearm. It was there and it would never leave her, she accepted that, and everything was okay, it had been one of the lesser nightmares.

The young woman had been unable to find courage when Lady Tremaine had thrown the beautiful vase down the hall, straight for her, and all Ella could do in the second before it collided with her was give in to instinct and raise her arms to protect her face. The image of reddened shards of pottery ricocheting off her arms and cutting through the air replayed and replayed, the scene in slow motion as blood gushed from her cuts and spattering onto her face and hands as she toppled over, unbalanced by the force of the vase hitting her. From then she had fallen onto the floor, trying to staunch the bleed with the skirt her old stripe patterned dress and greying apron, she had been ordered in a disgusted tone to collect the broken pieces up again. She, however, had given focus to picking up herself first, and had received a kick as payment for her negligence.

Ella suddenly wanting nothing more than something to hold, someone to hold her back and soothe her worries, fight off the nightmares with her. Every night she had considered running to Kit, begging him to stay with her and keeping her safe through the night, but something always held her back. It wasn’t that she was afraid Kit would turn her away, she knew he would never cast her aside and rebuff her in her state, but she was afraid of the implications spending the night with him held.   
She had, previously, refused to give in to the desperate need for company in her darker hours, adamant that she would never force him into the position where he was obligated to comfort her.

Practically throwing herself off the bed, her feet hitting the cold floor with a resounding thud, Ella ignored all her reservations and all the reasons why she shouldn’t, throwing open the door to her parlour and traveling through it to the neutral rooms to the right. From there, there was little more than a room that separated her from his door, and soon she had crossed it, her hand knocking on the door furiously as she prayed for a response.

~

“Ella?” He was groggy from sleep, and did not have enough faith in his eyes to believe that his betrothed was now standing in front of him, clearly shaken up and possibly close to tears. In any other circumstance, Ella would not have trusted herself. It was one thing to spend the days with her betrothed, but nights might just be overstepping the mark. She would never dream of putting Kit in a difficult situation, however, unless she was quite honestly terrified. Her distress was obvious, heart hammering and breathing ragged for all the wrong reasons, when Kit opened the door.

“Kit.” She breathed, and he could see, even in the gloom of night, the relief on her face when she saw him. “Kit, I can’t sleep.” Now, he had dreamed of her appearing at his door in the middle of the night, nightshift askew and golden hair lose, and uttering those exact words - except in all those dreams she wasn’t on the road to having a panic attack. “I had a nightmare and..,” There were tears in her eyes, just to add to the amounting evidence that she had suffered no ordinary nightmare. Despite their thin layers and the generally impropriety of an embrace at this time, in the doorway to his bedchamber, in their state of undress, Kit wrapped his arms around her and she clung onto him as though he might float away, never to be seen again.

“You’ve been having them a lot, haven’t you?” His voice was a gentle suggestion in her ear, soothing her even more. She only nodded, afraid to speak in case she began to weep, burying her face further into his shoulder. She trembled violently, in an effort not to break down, and he feared she would lose her balance, an excuse to keep his arms tightly about her.

“Kit, I know it’s not proper, but..” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, but she was close enough to his ear to make out the words. “I need you right now.” Now, the way he imagined her saying this had a lot more force and lust. Now, when she had murmured those words, there was no desire in them, only a heart felt plea for comfort. He would no deny her it.

“I don’t think you’ve seen my room.” He contemplated, taking her by the hand and closing the door slowly behind them, as if to give Ella an opportunity to leave. He wouldn’t try anything, obviously, but he didn’t want her to feel worse than she already did - simple things like that helped her remind herself she had a choice. “Our room, in a few weeks anyway.” He corrected himself.

“It’s big.” She noted after a pause. Ella really couldn’t see all that much, no candles were lit (she felt rather guilty, he had clearly been asleep when she knocked) and the drapes were thick and heavy in preparation for the winter that was on their doorstep. Realising that he must be tired, she hadn’t even thought to check the clock in her apartments, but she knew it had to be passed midnight, Ella moved a little closer to the bed.

“Do you have a preference?” Kit asked, noting her slight movement towards the bed. At least they’d figure this out now as opposed to waste time on the wedding night debating which side belongs to who. The difficulty was, with Ella so kind and Kit so chivalrous, they rarely expressed what they wanted, in the off chance someone else wanted it.

“No,” Ella replied truthfully. She had never really had a double bed, and so when she moved to the palace she just slept in the middle. “Which do you prefer?”

“You can pick.” Kit offered, but by now Ella’s eyes had adjusted to the increased darkness of the room and could see that the right side of the bed was unmade. So she took the initiative to move around to the left side, feeling a little awkward that she was climbing into someone else’s bed. Kit followed her lead.

“Do you want a pillow wall or anything?” He eventually offered, feeling more embarrassed than ever. Kit really hoped she didn’t think he’d get too familiar in the night, but if it made her feel safer who was he to deny her?

“It’s fine, I trust you.” He could hear the encouraging smile in her voice, but deep down she was less convinced of herself. Hadn’t she imagined this scenario a thousand times over? Admittedly, it was a little bit more romantic in her head and ended with them in a heap on the floor, but it was similar in some aspects.

Now, they may have loved each other, but that did not mean they were completely comfortable with the new arrangement. Both of them edged as far away from the other as they bed allowed, more for the sake of their partners privacy and personal space than for their own peace. This was completely unexplored territory, and Ella found herself curled in a ball facing away from him and Kit just lay perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling.

“Good night.” The had both said at the same time, both exchanges short and curt. Ella rolled over, conscious of how much space she was taking up as she did so, to face him when she thought he was asleep - only to find his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. Kit was almost paralysed, too scared to even look at the corner of his eye at her.  
Despite the physical distance, however, Ella felt stronger with him nearby, and was not so terrified to close her eyes as she had been. She had wasted maybe three hours gathering the courage to move, having woken in cold sweat with her mind racing. She regretted not coming to Kit immediately, and with a small smile remembered that it was only a few weeks until she wouldn’t have to sleep apart from him ever again.

Kit woke in the early morning to the tossing and turnings of the beautiful woman beside him. At first the young king had been very, very confused, but after recalling the interruption to his sleep earlier on in the night he became concerned for her. It wasn’t long until her movements became violent thrashing, struggling through a battle in the shadows of slumber, and with a cry she woke herself up.

Ella wasn’t aware of her surroundings at all. The only thing she could think about was the sound of shattering glass and the feel of kicks and blows, sobbing uncontrollably as her mind refused to calm down. Within seconds, however, she felt loving arms embrace her and pull her close, and she sobbed into Kit’s neck, and he kissed her head, squeezing his eyes shut. In time her heart slowed to match his pace, but she didn’t bother to remover herself from his grip.

“I was so scared…” She whispered, lips brushing against his neck. In any other situation this action would lead to something a lot more heated, seeing as she had just been tumbling about and moaning in his bed, but that night it was different. Ella was more vulnerable than she had ever been, and Kit was more in love with her than he had ever been - was that possible?

“I’ll always be here.” Kit assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. It pained him to see the woman he loved so blatantly terrified and troubled, but he would never try and escape it. Right then she needed his love, and he would gladly give it for the rest of his life.

For the third time in the last ten hours, Kit’s slumber was interrupted by Ella. This time, however, wad a lot more pleasant - the king being drawn from his dreams by a determined tongue running across his own. He felt her gasp when he returned the kiss, pushing himself up and she grabbed hold of his hair. They broke away hardly a moment after that, both fearing they would go too far. In the pale glow of dawn Ella admitted to herself that she wanted him, waking only a few minutes before the sun from a dream that was in every way different from her previous two. She blushed when she met his eyes, sure he knew of what her latest dream had been of.

“Good morning.”

  
“Good morning.” Ella replied, returning his ridiculously happy grin. “I’m going before the servants wake up.” She confessed apologetically and tried not to see the disappointment in his eyes. “Thank you.” She would not have slept at all if he had not been there.

Kit watched her go, not moving from the sitting position he had obtained in their short kiss, pretending to not admire the curves of her form, so obvious beneath the thin nightshift. He failed, and he knew it even before she noticed her cheeks go an even bright red. His forlorn heart gave a summersault when she paused at the door, and she turned to look at him again.

“Kit..could I come back?” Her request was a simple one, if improper, and Kit responded immediately.

“Of course, my love.”


	2. Confessions and Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> References a previous one shot :)

  
By the fifth night both Ella and Kit had dark circles under their eyes and were slow to react to anything and everything, for purely innocent reasons. Well, rather more innocent than the other possibilities. Ella was still waking up in terror, vivid night visions plaguing her through the darker hours, and she would go to Kit for comfort. Then they would try their best to sleep, usually with success. Other times, she would come to screaming. On the third night he had even been forced to cover her mouth with his hand, for fear of giving the guards cause to come running.

This time, however, Kit found his visitor appearing earlier than expected. When he had only just slipped underneath the covers, even before the candles began to gutter, he heard the creak of a very unused door come from a corner of his room - and Ella stepped out through a wall. She was barefoot, her hair in lose tendrils down her back and her nightshift clinging to her. She promptly blushed apologetically at his stunned expression, colouring considerably.

"I think nightmare prevention is a key part in... this." The young girl eventually stumbled over, unsure of what to say. She was usually so assertive, but her confidence was lacking when it came to intruding in her betrothed's bed chamber. "I hope you don't mind." She hung by the open hole in the wall, an obvious doorway built for previous monarchs discretion now that he took a second look.

"Come here." Kit smiled, nodding to the side of the bed that was empty and cold. Ella returned his grin before scurrying across the floor and crawling under the covers beside him. It felt so right, her curled up form beside him. "Hello." He smiled again, turning on his side to meet her eyes.

"Hello." They were both encompassed in the warm aura of loving and being loved in return, content to just look at each others grins and watch each others eyes turn colour. Before Kit had met Ella brown had seemed such a dull, common shade - but now he held it in high esteem. Now, brown meant earthy and warm and welcoming, like a gentle garden waiting to be tended to, except he knew that Ella was anything but something to be looked after. Yes, he wanted to shield her from all the hurt the world had at its’ arsenal, but Kit recognised that his future queen was as strong as he was (if not stronger) and she didn't need protecting. She did need love, however, and comfort. They both did.

"I'll be leaving in a week,” Kit eventually murmured, recalling with dread the conversation he needed to have with his future wife. "for three days." Ella's body, parallel to his own, stilled.

"On a hunt?" She risked. "Prudence had thought it ... prudent," Ella frowned, wincing at her choice of words, before she pressed forward "to mention the possibility of a final attempt." The young woman had, to her credit, been successful in keeping her strong sense of outrage in check as the royal housekeeper had relayed to her the impending event. To Ella it hardly seemed like something one would slide into conversation over tea, but that was the type of person Prudence was. In actual fact, most of the ladies of the court were that type of person.

"There won't be a terrible amount of game left, I imagine." It was too far into Autumn for the deer to be bountiful (the last target the hunters had found was the stag Kit, acting on Ella's urging, had insisted run free). He could feel disappointment radiating off her, even if Ella was trying to conceal her anguish. He knew her opinion on such sport, anyway.

"I'll miss you." She offered with a weak twitch of her lips. "I'll miss you a lot." In truth, she wouldn't sleep without him. The nightmares that plagued her were not common ones, either, or easily overcome. Ella needed Kit by her side to quell her fears, but to say such things aloud would certainly stop him from going and she could not bring herself to be so selfish. Under the sheets her hand slid into his, and she was comforted for a moment by his steady hold on her small fingers and calloused palm, her mistreated knuckles and well worked wrists.  
"I don't like hunting." Kit declared wistfully, ending the uncomfortable silence that had ensnared them. "I've never liked it." He had never told anyone that, and Ella knew it as he avoided her gaze. He did not know what her reaction would be.

"Then why do you do it?" Ella knew why, and she also knew that it could not be helped (as of yet). They might be able to stop a few wars, avoid conflict and show the few that would listen that kindness was a much better option - hunting, however, was a pastime. Granted, it was a dangerous pastime, but Ella was aware that very few men or women considered it cruel to harm animals, in their minds they were lesser beings, in fact.

"I was the prince, and now I'm the king. I don't think I'll ever be able to avoid it entirely." There was always his old age, of course, but he personally felt he was in no hurry to reach that stage in his life. The only comfort he found in the concept of growing old was that Ella would be at his side when he did, and that was a wonderful thought.

"I remember being four and ten when my father and I came across a hunt." She whispered softly, forcing him to meet her eyes. "It was early spring and we were going for a walk about the edge of the forest." The forest was, at least partly, on the Foret estate, but the official stance was that all land in the kingdom belonged to the crown and was, therefore, hunting ground if they saw fit.

"We came across a glade that was a mile or two west of the house and we heard horses and men and dogs. My father detested hunting, and he had made a couple of complaints about some of the lower lords making use of the land." Kit flinched, even though he tried to hide it. He had always hoped that Ella's parents would approve of him, but he could not help but think that he was decidedly below their standards for a son-in-law. "But he said he saw a standard, only for a moment mind you, that had the royal colours, so he simply hurried me away before they returned with the..." She didn't need to finish her sentence.

"How early was it in the season?" Kit asked, a cold chill crawling up his spine.

"There was still some frost on the grass earlier that morning, I think - it was a long time ago." Ella replied, brow creasing in confusion. "It must have been the first or second hunting party.”

"I think I was there." Fourteen. He had been fourteen when he had made his first kill. Ella could hardly process the information, imagining with disgust what it must have been like to take a living things life so young. "I was going to ask if I could stay in the clearing that day, but the Grand Duke gave me a knife and I knew it meant a lot to him." It was the first time he had mentioned the Duke since he was stripped of his rank and family titles (he was now reduced to simply Eric Mengard). His exile was imminent.

"Ella, you must understand, I hate every second of it." His expressive eyes were wide and full of pain as he spoke, and she fought the urge to curl closer into him. "I have never felt so disgusted in my life." The hounds lunging at the deer, taking it down as crossbowmen fired arrows into the deers sides (the occasional musket would be used, but some of the elite thought it ruined the sport). "At the people around me, at myself." The blood, sticky and warm, covered his hands and marked him for the murderer he was, the knife slitting the poor animals throat in a malicious cut of the blade.

"Thank you for sharing that." Ella eventually said, her eyelashes lavishly fanning her cheeks as she whispered, her voice low despite how unnecessary it was. "I don't expect you've told a lot of people." No, no he hadn't. Not even the Captain, who was the closest friend he had, knew it. "It was interesting to hear about the Grand Duke, though. It would seem he has always been scheming against us." Ella giggled, despite the seriousness of the current situation. Treason was treason, and punishable by death, but she found it inanely amusing.

"Indeed it would seem so." Kit agreed, a bubbling laugh escaping him despite his dark thoughts. Then Ella pressed herself up beside him, drawing him into her embrace. Right now, he was the one that needed comforting. A warm fuzzy feeling washed over her as he buried his face in her shoulder, an amused smile coming to her lips as she heard him breathe in heavier than usual, smelling her hair. "I can't wait until we don't need to hide this." Until they were married.

_Three days later...._

Ella had never eaten very much at meals, a fact that Kit had observed with a concerned eye before, but she consumed little over a mouthful that morning as she pushed the breakfast pudding across her plate, eyelids heavy and head clouded. Kit had been away for three nights, and each of those three nights had been a horrifying experience for his beloved, awaking in her own bed amid shrill shrieks and ragged breathing. They had grown more vivid, if that were possible, and they were all Ella could think of, haunting her throughout the day as though they were ghosts.

It was not as though the food was unappetising, and Ella did indeed regret not eating it, but she could hardly stomach the shreds of spinach, let alone the solid egg in it, and so sat with her fork poised in her hand, watching it move around the plate, working up the courage to give the order for the servants to clear the table. All the potato farls, raisin bread and honey cakes next to wasted, food she would have fought for a year ago, sent back to the kitchens. She was too tired to eat, no matter how much she willed herself.

The first night that she returned to her own bed, Ella had only experienced the night terrors in a more vibrant, even more realistic sense, where she could not even comprehend that she was reliving a memory. The second night, however, was much, much worse. Ella had never been so loud as to rouse the servants before, but Clara had found her stifling her screams with her hands, biting hard down on her fingers to quieten her wails. Undoubtedly the information had been passed on to Prudence, and most of the servants hall, but memory of the visions was enough for Ella to sit up through the night, dozing off only once in one of the quaint, alcove-like window seats that littered her rooms.

“If you would excuse me, My Lady,” Emma appeared in the doorway, curtsying slightly, “but it would seem that the hunting party has arrived earlier than expected.” She had not finished her sentence before Ella was rising, the servants scattering as the chaos of an unexpected return settled over the royal household.

~

Kit liked thinking about Ella. He liked thinking about her smile and her laugh, her reassuring presence and warm heart. Sometimes he would think of the way it felt to fall asleep beside her, but that very often led to other thoughts, which were, regrettably, dominated by concern for her sleeping patterns. He didn’t want to leave her, Kit was certain that he would never want to leave her, but he was required to participate in social obligations as much as the next person, and hunting was something he could not avoid without losing face. Everything had its’ own time, however, and the young king was certain that he would be able to gradually change the way his land viewed courage and kindness. 

  
Needless to say, when it became evident that no forest within a weeks ride held any such thing as game now that it was winter, Kit called for an early return to home and, due to the damp and cold weather, everyone agreed. They had expected to be away five nights and six days, but he found himself riding through the second gate and into the lower courtyard pleasantly earlier, and found his demeanour brightening at the sight that awaited him on the back steps.  
The day was overcast, dark grey clouds obscuring the daylight, and yet it seemed as though there were a second sun among them, a sun that no real darkness could obscure, awaiting a beloved fiancé with an eager smile, despite how decidedly exhausted she was on the inside. Kit hardly looked to see if the stableboy had caught the reins he threw to him before he was dismounting with vigour and, ignoring all the bows and curtseys from Phillip, Prudence and the like, hastily approached Ella, only pausing when his hands wrapped themselves around her own. He had been, right until that exact moment their skin touched, fully intending to pull her into his embrace and kiss her with all the energy that had built up over the four lonesome days without her company.

“Good morning,” He settled on saying, after a moment of just drinking in the warm glow she surrounded herself in, and planted a kiss on her cheek, the implied intimacy in the simple gesture speaking volumes. “I missed you.” He risked to whisper, his lips too close to her ear not to.

“Welcome home.” Ella responded, and as Kit drew back he noticed a slight strain on her generally easy smile, bruised circles under her eyes pointing to a similar conclusion. Despite how tired she looked, Kits’ worry increasing as he took stock of her, her eyes spoke honestly of the delight (and relief) she felt at his return.

“Would you walk with me?” He asked, suddenly realising he had spent nigh on a minute staring into her eyes as Ella released a small, nervous laugh. Ella nodded, and they turned in synchrony to check that nothing required their immediate attention. After deciding that nothing did, Kit offered his arm to her and felt his heart flutter as she looped her arm into his, hand clutching on to his wrist as they walked.

Now, it was not a proper thing for an unmarried young woman to be in a man’s quarters, even with supervision (which they did not have), but both Ella and Kit had agreed earlier that as they had made a habit of sharing a bed, there was nothing serious about her being in his rooms. Guards failed to guard the door at that particular point, his personal squadron having taken part in the hunting misadventure, which made it even more thoughtless.

When he closed the doors behind them, no footmen standing at post due to the impromptu arrival, Kit did make note of how Ella had not broken his hold on his arm, and it felt as though she was clutching onto him in fear he would blow away, but that was most likely him being silly. Ella had never done that before, and besides, he was almost immediately preoccupied from the moment he opened is mouth to speak, interrupted by his betrothed’s unexpected seizing of his body and the way she propelled it into hers without blinking.

“I missed you, too.” Ella whispered against him as she immediately pulled him closer to her, hands pressing into his back as he fitted his body around her. “I missed you more than you could ever know.”


	3. Asking You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a previous one shot :)

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked you.” Kit said out of no where, looking up with a frown from his letters, and across the breakfast table Ella released a befuddled laugh. “Asked you to marry me, that is.” He added, searching his memory. He had only just assumed she wanted to, and she had gone along with the arrangements and all - he did not doubt she wanted to marry him, but he never actually requested for her hand. If circumstances had been different, he probably would have begged for her heart, but he did not even pause to question her devotion to him and his to her.

“You released a royal decree.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Declaring your love for me and your intent to wed me as soon as I came forth.” Surely a regal edict was enough to suffice as a proposal? They had attended countless state dinners and made official appearances as a betrothed couple, that was enough, at least.

“But, you didn’t come forth.” Kit pointed out. “Circumstances that we shall not ruin this day by discussing prevented you from voluntarily declaring yourself, and I removed any form of you consensually entering into the supposed engagement by seeking you out.” He had given this much thought, for in the cold nights away hunting he liked thinking about Ella, but had struggled to find an apropriate strain of though that envolved her. The complications concerning consenuality in a marriage agreement (which was already lacking in many instances across the world), however, proved to be both distracting and entertaining.

“I suppose so.” Ella agreed, though she wasn’t quite sure it mattered. They were going to marry, and both parties wished to wed, and so it hardly changed anything if he didn’t propose directly to her. She took a sip of tea, her eyebrows knitting together in a show of uncertainty, not aware where he was leading the conversation.

“You do want to marry me, right?” He checked, suddenly very cautious of what sort of situation they were know in.

“Of course!” Ella cried, desperate that he should never doubt it. She loved him, he was her everything - he had been the person to reinstall her faith in kindness and courage, the one who had assured her that love was real, that goodness was real, he was her Kit. “But, I don’t quite see how this matters of a sudden. I want you to be my husband and I your wife, you know that. Why should you be required to ask?”

“Social obligations…” Kit shrugged, shaking the discussion off, before his eyes flicker back from over the top of the letter. “Romantic sensibilities…”

“Which entails?”

“Flowers, gifts, a presentation of a ring, perhaps?” He suggested, listing off the first things that came to mind. Things he had heard about from friends, read in books, watched in theatre and opera.

“You have given me an ample amount of flowers.” Ella reminded him, recalling the numerous bouquets of roses and flower arrangements placed in her rooms on his orders, little pockets of fragrance and beauty that reminded her of him when he had been gone. “Too many gifts to count-” A home was the least of it, ranging from dresses to a bequeathment of a substantial amount of money (that she controlled solely) to preserve and repair her ancestral estate and so much more.

“They don’t count if you deserve them.” He interrupted, meaning (in his mind) nothing he could ever give her was simply a gift. He was merely paying homage to the goddess like image of perfection that had graced him with her attention, adoration and affection.

“And I don’t need an engagement ring to convince me that you love me, or to ensure you keep to your word.” Ella concluded, ignoring his objection. “I have absolute faith in you, in that regard and all others, and I am perfectly content just being here with you.” That didn’t ease the idea that had begun to circulate.

“Would you care to take the evening meal with me in a different location?”

“We aren’t dining together tonight.” She replied. “You have paperwork to finish, finalising the Grand Dukes.. case.” Exile, she meant, but it was best not to remind Kit of what he was doing, he was well aware.

“Phillip can take care of that, I’m sure.” The King answered. “All the documents requiring signatures have been signed, and he can forge it, I’m sure, if he is dire need to.” Ella restrained a laugh. “Why else does His Grace have access to the royal seal if not to impersonate me when I am off enjoying myself?”

“I’m not quite sure that is the reasoning behind it.” Ella smiled, making use of one of her knowing looks that reminded him distinctly of a mother listening to their child attempt to wheedle their way out of doing an especially odious chore. “Have dinner with me.” He urged, and she did not refuse.  
~  
   
It was a good thing that Ella was well rested, having fallen asleep the previous night at Kit’s side as soon as she closed her eyes, for she was asked to wait for the evening meal a few hours later than usual and would have been, by that time any other day, utterly exhausted from the broken slumber she generally endured. She had yet to see Kit, instead being informed by a mysterious Phillip that she was to remain in her rooms, specifically in her rooms, until she was instructed otherwise - or rather requested, as she was the kings’ betrothed and therefore was hardly instructed to do anything.

And then, as Ella sat before the pianoforte, absentmindedly tinkering with the higher pitched keys, Clara entered with the largest smile on her face that Ella had seen before and gave her a small nod and curtsey. Ella practically ran down the flights of stairs, happily speeding through the halls and out onto the terrace, taking in the fresh air of the gardens. The bite of the night air stung her face and what little neck was exposed through her high collar (it was winter, after all), but Ella hardly cared as she saw the line of torches her intuition told her she was to follow.

“You have certainly out done yourself.” She declared, shaking her head as she entered the stone gazebo like stricture, drawing in a gasp at the beauty Kit and the servants had contrived. The candles were flickering around the still evening breeze of on-coming autumn, illuminating a lavishly laid out dining table that Kit was already sitting at, a mischievous grin on his face.

“I think it looks good.” The King agreed, rising to his feet as the splendid image of his beloved blessed his vision. She looked particularly gorgeous tonight, with her hair lose and eyes bright with anticipation, making her way towards him with a soft smile on her lips. “I missed you.” He admitted, even though they were still separated by a metre or so and there were servants nearby (although they were at a considerable distance, even out of hearing range, perhaps).

“We saw each other at noon.” Ella sighed, sliding her hands into his, though he understood she also missed him.

“That does not make it easier.” He warned her, and for a second, a perfect second in time, he was content to simply hold her hands in his and revel in her presence. He had requested the required chaperones to keep their distance, the footmen and guards (that Lance insisted were necessary, Kit was convinced, for no other reason than that Phillip had instructed him to do so, in hopes of irritating their mild mannered monarch) being stationed off to the sides. Even with knowledge that they would hear nothing, and claim to have seen nothing, Kit still leant closer to his love, just for the sake of intimacy.“You look beautiful.” He whispered against her cheek, laying a kiss on the colour than instantly rose where his breath touched.

“Thank you, you look..” Kit watched her brows knit into a frown as she searched for a word. “You look like you are planning something.”

“I may be.” He allowed. “And I also may not be.”

“How very coy.” Ella teased. He thought he was being smart, and in many areas he was an incredibly subtle maneuverer - just not on the romance frontier, when he became an adorable and occasionally flustered jumble of intellectual thought and awkwardness. One thing, however, that no one save an observant Fairy Godmother noticed, was that even if Ella was the only one who could send him into a sense of nervousness he never had appreciated before, she was also the only one who could draw him out - the only one that well and truly brought the best out of him, and he did the same for her.

“Our attendants are to be posted a considerable distance away, tonight.” He smiled again. “So we may speak as we wish.”

“You have orchestrated this precisely, I see?” Ella laughed. “Then I shall tell you that I love you, Mister Kit, and before you ask, the answer is yes.” Of course she knew why he had gone out of his way to set up the meal, and the special setting only confirmed her suspicions. His face fell, but only for a brief moment.

“How did you..” He shook his head, realising he had not been a very subtle operator. “I still intend to ask it.” Kit affirmed and Ella sent him a questioning look.

“Kit, I don’t want you to think that-”   
“I don’t think that I have to earn your attention through lavish gifts, my love.” He completed her sentence for her, knowing what she would say. “I know you would love me, even if I never gave you a betrothal or a marriage ring - which, you understand, is not an option.” Ella laughed again, and Kit caught her hand as it went to move aside a lock of hair from her face. He studied her hand for a while, the way it looked intertwined with his, and for the thousandth time that day he knew he made the right choice in borrowing that guard uniform. “I want you to know, however, that I will continue expressing how I feel about you until the end of my days. I will never stop wanting to give you gifts, whether they be flowers or rings or a horse.” He winced at his own mention of his soon to be revealed gift he would be presenting her tomorrow, and she raised an eyebrow at him.  
“More on that later.” He promised. “Just as I will never stop wanting to kiss you.” They were both very thankful he had the foresight to have the attendants remain at a distance, Kit leaning in closer to plant a tentative and short lived kiss on her lips. Despite it’s briefness, Ella found comfort on his lips, as he often found courage on hers.

“I love you.” She murmured, their foreheads still resting against each other when she did. “You are so unbelievably perfect and I will love you until my last breath.”

“With that promise in mind, Ella, I would like to ask you a question.” Kit grinned, fishing something out of his jacket as she looked into his eyes, alarmed at the action.

She understood he would ask her, but she hadn’t expected a ring. She supposed she should have, but her practicality had set in and while she appreciated the sentimentality, she failed to see it’s symbolism so far into their relationship. Their foreheads were still pressed together, one leaning on the other, when Kit whispered in a next to inaudible volume the long awaited, and apparently unneeded, question.

“Ella, my love, will you marry me?” As her response was to seize his lips with her own and permitted her fingers to curl in his hair, Kit assumed it was a positive answer and so, when they paused for want of air, he slowly slid the ring onto her finger and she laughed and smiled, and she did see that it symbolised something. It meant that her husband-to-be would never stop in his endeavours to convince her of just how much she meant to him, that in his mind, at least, she was perfection and the world, and that, no matter what she did, he would always love her and she would always love him. “It would give me the greatest pleasure if I might lead you through this, the first dance.” He requested when she took a double take on the shining jewel now attached to her finger.  
“You remembered this time.” Ella said approvingly, accepting his extended hand graciously. Their meal sat, forgotten at the table, for hours as the pair danced and danced, and then they talked and talked, finding themselves in their secret garden in the end, just as the clock struck midnight.

~

“It’s growing late.” Kit mentioned after a while, eyes looking to the clock tower as the larger hand brushed half an hour past midnight. “And cold.” Frost had already been deterred, they could see it by the wet marks their footprints had made on the grass, and their breaths steamed and mingled as they walked arm in arm, discussing everything from the frozen flowers to the swiftly approaching wedding. Ella nodded as Kit turned to her, blue eyes seizing her vision as he gently brushed his hands on her forearms, moving down to her wrists.

“Very cold.” She agreed, her voice waxing slightly. “Although, I do like staying with you after midnight.” Kit released a chuckle as his hands slipped into hers and he was surprised by the coldness, looking up with a crease on his forehead. He clutched even tighter as he felt the burning cold ring on her hand dig into his palm, drawing her right hand to his lips first, kissing each finger, knuckle and faint scar as he did. He couldn’t help but think of the scars that were meant to reach across her ribs and down her shoulders and back, but Ella payed no attention to the marks on her hands, instead focusing on the sensation of Kit’s lips on them. She felt her blood hum and head cloud as butterflies sprouted wings in her stomach, her hands warming as well as the rest of her body.

“I would suggest we retire, but that might be dangerous.” He was foolish enough to say, but Ella only blushed at the remark and tried to restrain a nervous giggle as he grimaced, dropping her hands. “I’m sorry for that.. That comment.” He apologised as soon as his cheeks lost their furious colour, refusing to look her in the eye, until he felt a hand smoothing the side of his jawline and cupping his face. She had a smile on her face when he looked her way.

“I think sleeping is appropriate as well.” Ella told him, and he smiled against her hand as she leaned in for a kiss.

They dressed for bed separately and went to bed separately, kindly dismissing the servants as always and waiting for discretion until the candles burned low. When Ella crawled into his bed she felt safe and secure, as though she were coming home, and drifted off to sleep feeling as though that even the nightmares could not harm her when she was in Kit’s arms. She was wrong, but it was a terribly romantic notion.

She was shaking violently, even after Kit had pulled her into him and under the covers, even when he rocked with her and told her everything was all right, told her over and over that he was with her and nothing could harm her when she was with him. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and although he had seen her like this before, it had never been to this degree and Kit had never been more scared in his life.

“I love you.” He settled in telling her, hushing her whimpers as he clutched onto her, pleading within himself for some response. “Ella, I love you.” Eventually she quietened, but there was an ache in Kit’s heart, the feeling of utter helplessness plaguing him even as she spoke.

“Thank you.” There was no need to thank him, but she did, her voice faint and distant as she curled against his chest.

“You can talk to me.” Kit offered after a long pause, unsure of whether or not she had fallen asleep on him. She stirred, however, and so he continued. “If you want to, that is.”

“It’s nothing.” Ella responded at last, stiffening and pulling away enough to tug on Kit’s sense, forcing him to restrain the urge to pull her back to him. “Truly.” She added, but that did not make it so and they both understood that. Kit didn’t like pressing subjects on her, indeed he had loathed having to ask her about her life with her stepfamily, in the hopes of establishing some facts so that they might be charged on something besides severe fraud.

“Ella, this was worse than all the other times.” He needed to push the topic, perhaps gain at least some idea of what had happened, find a reason for the indescribable fear he had felt as he desperately attempted to bring her back to him. “Please.” His plea was enough to earn him eye contact, even if the silent exchange was brief, her brown eyes communicating to him that no, no it had not been the worst of them. The first time she had reacted so violently Kit had been away, leaving Ella alone and caught in her thrashings and screams.

His eyes must have betrayed his thoughts, filling with pity and emotion, the need to comfort her causing his arms to twitch slightly, and Ella left his embrace entirely, the inches of mattress between them enough to resemble infinite miles and continents to the pair of them. Except, Kit couldn’t stand to look through the dimness at the space that separated him from Ella, and his beloved felt secure away. If she was too close, what would happen? They would either be eternal, or she would lose him forever, and her prior experiences with the world suggested that the latter we far more likely. Her animal friends were simpler, her animal friends had not been snatched from her by deaths hand.

“My other dreams are memories.” Distorted, obviously, specific colours taking on greater vibrancy and vicious noises growing louder and louder as the nightmares progressed. “These ones..,” There was a scratch in her voice, and Kit refused himself his simple want to wipe away the tear that were surely on her face.

“Ella, you can tell me.” No, she couldn’t. Giving voice to her dread would only distress herself more, and that would not be very constructive. It would hurt her, and Kit would try and ease her worries, but there would remain a little seed of doubt in the back of her mind, a reminder that he had no say in the matter. Her father had no say in leaving her, but he did, although Ella hardly expected Kit to suffer a heart attack any time soon. She could, however, see them slowly grow apart, whether it would be following a falling out or simply gradual disinterest was up to fate to decide.

“I love you and I will always love you, Ella.” He called her Ella, the first one and next to only person to do so. To the disposed of staff from her home she had been Miss, to everyone now she was My Lady, Your Ladyship, and soon Your Majesty. Most hauntingly, to her stepfamily she had been Cinderella, but Kit would always name her Ella. It broke her resolve, as did the absolute certainty in his statement. It reminded Ella of how convinced she was of her infinite and eternal affection for him, and she lowered her walls for a small time.

“I was trapped, unable to move or make a noise.” It had started off as flying shards of glass scattering through the air across the floor and the sound of an old lock clicking behind a solid wooden door. A door that could not be opened, and yet on the other side were her hopes and dreams and the love of her life, and then it had evolved into complete and agonising paralysis. “And you were their, but you weren’t.” Ella struggled to explain, feeling hot lakes beneath her eyelids overflowing. He had been moving behind the door that was the most solid object in the entire universe, and also the most transparent.

“I lost you.” His arms were surrounding her before she could begin to sob again, and she cried and cried as she repeated her words. “I lost you and I could do nothing to stop it.”

Neither knew who fell asleep first, but both Kit and Ella knew that she had wept until sleep had taken her and in her exhaustion she dreamed no more, waking up underneath what sunlight the gap in the heavy curtains could provide.

“Good morning.” Was all Kit said when she opened her eyes, an adoring smile on his face that told her that last night would be forgotten until she wanted to remember.


	4. Don't Fail Him

“Good morning.” Ella smiled back, stretching out a little as her heavy eyes opened, straining against the light to make out his face more clearly. She forced her concerns about the night before away as Kit squeezed her hand in his, blue eyes alight and awake.

“You look beautiful when you’re asleep.” He told her, and despite how silly it was Ella still blushed at the affectionate comment. “You look..,” What she looked like was almost indescribable, the expression on her face when she was graced by deep and unaltered sleep so content and perfect. Kit wished she might look like that her whole life, at peace and smiling, he could swear she smiled even in slumber, so happy and angelic. She looked like that as they danced as well, a floating gift of magic to behold as she laughed and smiled, a second sun, a brighter sun, that had made his heart glow.

“You’re too kind, Mister Kit.” Ella responded quietly, and he snorted at her reply.

“You, I’m afraid, are the kind one, my love.” He was certain of the fact that, no matter how much he tried to be kind, his wonderful Ella would always be eons ahead. There was a warm feeling in Ella’s chest when she planted the kiss on his lips, long, loving and lingering, and Kit could not help that his arms moved to welcome her. Perhaps Ella should have payed less attention to his lips and tongue and more to how much light was passing through the curtains and where the arms on the intricate clock pointed. If she had then she may well have not found the time for such luxuries.

You might imagine the servants distress when they found the Lady Ella to be missing, and most importantly their fear of relaying the news to the fearsome housekeeper, which bought the two young lovers time. Eventually, however, Prudence had to be informed and, if she saw fit, the newly appointed Captain of the Guard and promoted Grand Duke. Again, there was a similar feeling held by Prudence, for while she could hardly fear the young king she was well aware of quite how panicked he would grow upon being told. Indeed, if she had found need of her smelling salts then Kit’s reaction would be unimaginable. Unless he knew about it.

Prudence recalled thinking the couple quite domesticated when they retired without prompting, understanding that while talking the night away would be enjoyable it was not sensible. Now, all she felt was gullible and viewed them both in a less than flattering light, marching down the halls of the Western Wing with a face that could curdle fresh milk. Many words pounded through her head in that moment, furious expressions and impolite phrases she had never uttered aloud. Inconceivable! Unthinkable! Improper! Most importantly improper.

Ella could hardly begin to remember how she had found herself in such a compromising position, thighs wrapped about Kits hips and sitting in his lap as she kissed him with abandon, but she didn’t care, couldn’t care, not when her attention could be elsewhere. Currently, she was focused on his hands roaming across her body, causing her skin to burn beneath her nightgown and her to lose her breath faster. She pulled away for half an instant, head spinning, to gasp in oxygen before returning the wonderful thing it was to kiss him.

Kits hand froze as the door was pounded on, heavy thumps furious and urgent, and he pulled away choking as the pair of them both began to realise their situation. Hair ruffled, faces red and chests heaving with her straddling him and his hands on her bare thighs. Kit immediately removed his grip, Ella suddenly rolling off of him and across the mattress, but not without the apprentice monarch being able to make note of soft texture that graced his betrothed thighs. Ella, by the time blood began to rush to his head, had already hit the floor, and without thinking rolled under the bed. Finally, he flung himself onto his stomach, concealing an occasionally inappropriate side affect of kissing Ella, as he called for the intruder to enter.

“Your Majesty, I…” The Royal Housekeeper seemed just about to thunder a lecture at the young man when she made note of the lack of Ella in his bed, and immediately trailed off, feeling a little abashed.

“Good Morning, Prudence.” Kit smiled, his actions, expressions and words echoing a person that had only just been awoken. Despite his calm, however, he was in sheer panic within, his thoughts in rampant disarray as he restrained his next order. He wanted her out, desperately wanted her to leave, and yet if he told her to she would know something was amiss. For, while Kit had been royalty and therefore her superior all his life, he as a child had been a good natured bundle of manners and laughs, so he had never actually issued her an order before, but they may have also had something to do with how terrified he had been (and still was, vaguely) of her. Even his father had never given her an order, although he claimed it was because of all the sacrifices Prudence had made for them.

“Your Majesty,” How was she to tell him that Ella was missing? Until that moment she had simply assumed he knew, in fact he was responsible for it and that she wasn’t truly missing. “I don’t know quite how to phrase this, but the Lady Ella was not in her room and…”

“And you believed I had something to do with it?” He frowned, deciding that he in any other situation would not be offended and merely confused. “Prudence, you’ve known me all my life,” Kit feigned restraining a yawn for good measure, “please tell me if I ever seem like the sort of person who would do such things.” On one hand, what he and Ella were doing wasn’t sensible if propriety was to be upheld, but on the other it was necessary and, well, considering all the improper things he and Ella might do before the wedding, sharing a bed seemed the dullest.

“Well, we thought at least you would be aware of her whereabouts.” Yes, she’s under my bed, don’t worry nothing happened, you came just in time. Sarcasm wasn’t a key part of Kit’s repertoire, but his frustrated mind often though up such remarks that he would never use, largely because it would injure someone rather than it wasn’t how he felt.

“In the garden, perhaps?” He offered, addressing the pillow again. “It is close to the snows, she may have wanted to say good bye to the roses.” Kit had done so for years, but they never knew that, and he made a mental note to return to the Secret Garden again and see what roots might be salvaged, perhaps some that needed to be nursed in the hot house over the winter if they looked likely to wither under the snow.

Ella, underneath the bed and curled in a ball in the far corner, watching the skirts and shoes across the room, did not know of her betrothed ritual and frowned a little, but let it pass.

“You have checked the garden, yes?” Kit urged, and he could tell by Prudences flustered look that she hadn’t. It was odd, how ill tempered one who prided themselves in being thorough could become when confronted with evidence that they had not been. Prudence and the staff bustled away, closing the door with a reassuring clunk behind them, and Kit released a sigh of relief as Ella clambered back onto the bed.

“I suppose you ought to go and wander the gardens until someone finds you.” He said mournfully, and Ella merely shrugged.  
“I don’t know.” She told him pulling herself closer until she was inches from him. “The gardens are large and I don’t want to go just yet.”

When she left, their lips were bruised and there were marks on both their necks and collarbones, which were mostly concealed by the high collars she bundled up in and then sat in her rooms having tea until the servants returned and found her.

Prudence, upon reflecting on the brief exchange in the kings rooms, grew suspicious of Kits easy manner, and when she investigated found that the Lady Ella’s clothes were dry and not even cold from the morning chill. Furthermore, once she had a servant admitting that they never dusted under the beds she found that there was a considerable disturbance in the dust under Kits bed, but as she had pale evidence she kept quiet on the matter. She had more urgent events requiring her attention, anyway, such as the arrival of the wedding guests.

~

Envoys of the Chrysanthemum Throne in the morning, the royal caravan of Fuschar at noon and now, finally, the convoy of Zaragoza in the evening — quite a lot to take in and so little time! Ella had been off her feet all day, preparing and preparing for the wedding and coronation fitted between dull state dinners and compulsory feasts in her and Kit’s honour. All that kept her going were the recent memories of the times she was alone with Kit, sometimes innocent occasions and other times… not so much. Seven days. Only seven days until she and Kit were man and wife and such things, as chaste as they were, would never be frowned on again.

The arrival of the Princess Chelina did nothing for her impatience, however. It was strange, Ella struggled not to note, how all men and women in the room seemed immediately intimidated by the women, even before she spoke a word or so much as frowned. All, that is, excluding her. Ella observed her confident, fluid manner as nothing more than Chelina asserting her position, and found it neither pompous or arrogant as Prudence and the newly appointed Grand Duke’s wife, Adelaide, assured her she would. Ella looked with eyes unclouded and saw a confident woman who knew the importance of image and assertiveness, and recognised immediately that, while many females who supposedly reigned in their own right would be manipulated and pushed aside, Chelina would not be. This acknowledgement, however, did imply that the Princess had actively sought out a union between herself and Kit, which Ella wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Your Majesty,” Chelina addressed Kit with an extravagant, as did her entire court behind her, “Your Highness.” She did the same for Ella, but she did not let herself be fooled into thinking there was natural kindness in the address — an unnecessary one, as all were to name her Ladyship until her wedding. No, Chelina had her motives, but that would not cause Ella to think ill of her. Everyone had their own motives for being kind, even if hers was purer than others.

“Your Highness,” Kit nodded, remaining seated upon the throne as custom dictated. He had admitted to Ella previously that he didn’t very much care for how obviously separate this made him look, but tradition was tradition.“It is an honour to have you as my guest.” Ella curtseyed a little and smiled warmly, unsure of what to say and how to say it. The worst kept secret in court was that the previous Grand Duke had arranged a union between the king and this foreign princess, and so all eyes were on Ella, searching every movement she made for any sign of discontent or, heaven forbid, jealousy.

The deep reds and blacks of the dress brought out the depth in her eyes as Chelina assessed every single small characteristic of Ella, and the future queen willed herself not to feel quite so likened to a piece of meat. At length the princess smiled, eyes flickering back to Kit to deliver a well thought out response. She was elegant, that much was true of what they said about her. Cruel things the women whispered, offensive slander the men spoke, and yet Ella saw only someone who might be, if she had not been in possession of such a resilient and prideful spirit, pitied. Pitied not for the gossip, Ella doubted she would let such trivial matters trouble her, but for theft that she was not in a position as Kit was, a position where she might follow her heart as well as her head.

There was no formal dinner planned for that evening, but a small social gathering was arranged of all the well to do of the nations, crammed into one small set of rooms that had been set aside for the Marinyll entourage. Now, after Kit had been informed that his cousins were unable to attend his wedding and that only his aunt and uncle, Queen Margarethe and King Alexey, could be present, the rooms were next to useless — but Prudence had found a way, as always, to use the unused.  
It was there that Ella was confronted by the Princess of Zaragoza, decked out in her fines attire surrounded by the heavy scent of exotic perfumes and unnecessary attendants. It must have been a curious thing to behold, the elaborately dressed woman making a bee line for her and ‘politely’ interrupting Princess Mei Mei immediately. The extra princess left almost instantly, and while Ella missed her company she had the good grace not to inform Chelina that. Half the women in the room burst into a chaos of gossip as the pair exchanged nods.

“I expect all interactions we have will be observed as such.” She spoke well, but her foreign undertones added a sense of excessive boredom in her words, as though being discussed was the most tiresome thing there was. Then again, Ella supposed she would consider it so in a few years, or rather weeks, as well.

“Indeed, I fear so.” She answered quietly, a weak smile on her face. Again, she didn’t know how she felt about the princess, and so she hardly trusted herself without a solidified opinion. She silently wished Kit was by her side, but then perhaps then Chelina would not have approached her.

“Watch them twitter away behind their fans and glasses, I suppose they expect us to abhor each other.” The very suggestion made Ella flinch, even if it did not outwardly show. She prayed within herself that she would never succumb to hating someone. “Please know I was us to be on congenial terms.” Chelina added.

“I would like that also.” Except, she may not be able to guarantee that if Chelina, well, still wished to marry Kit. As if reading her thoughts, the foreign princess proceeded to put Ella’s mind at ease, albeit bluntly.

“It was only for his power, forgive how materialistic that sounds, but it is true. I have no doubt he is kind and gentle and all in all a perfect match for you, but I had no interest in his heart or his conversation. Does that bring you any comfort?” Ella was not quite sure how to respond to that, and kept quiet and nodded as if to agree with her. “My grandfather was a powerful noble and merchant before he rose to power in a bloody coo and aided the nephew of his prince to slaughter the royal family, so naturally my sympathies are with you.” And yet, how could someone succeed in unsettling her so immediately after a display of mild affection? And, pray tell, why she needed someones sympathies and how it was related to Chelina’s ancestry.

“Imagine if he had not slit his throat while he slept, I may have been born a merchants child as you were and then neither of us would be here now.” From what Ella had deduced from Kit, that was true. The sole reason his father and the disposed of Grand Duke had agreed to the suggestion of a ball was so that he marry a princess, which had been previously orchestrated by the Grand Duke. “I will warn you, however, many of these blue bloods aren’t pleased.” She knew that, oh did she know that. She had not been so reminded of it of late, but when first the news broke that the Mystery Princess was a commoner… No noble liked the idea of their new king marrying a merchants daughter, and it was only expected that some wedding guests would decline purely because of Ella’s status.  
“I am aware of what they think.” Did she intend to injure her in some way? Ella could not fathom why someone would intentionally make another uncomfortable, and all she wanted in that moment was for Kit to suddenly appear at her side.

“He trusts you, and loves you.” Chelina smiled. “That is more than what any princess might hope for, but you must also remember that it does not bode well to rely only on your heart, Your Highness — would Your Majesty be too premature?” Ella only smiled and pretended that she didn’t feel terrified of the future. 

When she climbed into Kit’s bed that night he wrapped her arms about her, and she thought of Chelina’s words and pulled away. Abashed, Kit made the space between them even larger, and the delicious intimacy they had enjoyed the day before as the maids scavenged the gardens, kissing and embracing and giggling, seemed altogether lost to her.


	5. My Queen

That night she dreamt of darkness, and the sheets beside her were cold, even though he was beside her, and the serene winter morning began with as much chill within her heart as within the gardens. He was still slumbering, at the edge of the bed, and although she had been the one to pull from his grasp his distance stung her as she surveyed his face. Her heart broke as the clock tower chimed it’s usual chime, the smaller clock on the other side of the room bravely following, as constant and steady as the time it sang for, but Ella felt everything was different just as much as it was the same. Gone now was her courage, driven away by self doubt and fear.

What if she couldn’t live up to all their expectations? That had been a question that had followed her since the moment she stood before the masses as Kit reiterated his intent to wed her, their eyes burning into her until all she remained to be was a ball of flames, strangely disfigured by an ethereal silhouette. She had come to accept that she didn’t need to live up to the standards of the nobles and the people, merely help them to the best of her ability. Ella had never considered Kit before. His constant love had assured her that she could never disappoint him, never embarrass him and cause him to hate her, until now.

Don’t fail him. The words echoed in her ear like clock chimes.  
She left him sleeping, grateful that one of them was at peace at least, her bare feet gliding silently across the frigid floor as she made her way to the wall panel that slid. Her little window seat provided a view of the water gardens, and she watched with her knees to her chest the thin layer of ice that had formed on the fountains pools melt away beneath the pale sun.

Queens did not traditionally have a terrible amount of duties. Yes, you must attend state functions and been stoically supportive to your much revered and respected husband, but that was quite the usual when concerning any wife. Perhaps you might stand in at a gala or two when His Majesty had better things to do, but there truly wasn’t much. 

Excluding the matter of children.

Ella knew that Kit’s mother had suffered some difficulty in the birthing of healthy children, Kit being the only royal child to live beyond his first year, and she herself had been an only child for undisclosed reasons, which she no supposed she would never know. And, to pile on top of a family history, she had not eaten properly for years, and while she was regaining weight it may have… injured her chances, as it were. The physicians had never come to a definite conclusion, really.

All that was required of her was to have children, and that was the only part of her new life that she was unsure of. Ella had never considered children an option, in truth, for while she very much enjoyed their conversation she had spent her life as either a child or a wretched servant girl, starved of food and company. She knew she wanted to be a mother, desperately, and fatherhood would come so easily to Kit, although she would not want to have a child right away… Ella soon found herself picturing a baby with Kit’s blue eyes and her mothers smile, perhaps a tuft of feathery black hairs upon their head, and caught herself before she could grow too attached to the fantasy. For all she knew, that might be an impossibility.

Kit would love her still, at first, even if she could not bring herself to love her flaws and uselessness, but practicality would catch up with them, and Ella knew it. All a kingdom could pray for once plagued by a barren queen would be their removal, either by divorce or convenient illness, and the sonless king would be free to remarry a fertile replacement. A time would come, following years of sterility and desolation, when her Kit might be forced to make a decision for the good of his people, and perhaps he would not be so reluctant to cast her aside. Her failure would bring distance, distance enough for him to fall out of love even. When that time came, Ella wondered if he would remember the night they danced for the first time, or if he would have forced the magic of the moment out of his mind.

Don’t fail him.

But how could she not? It was all out of her control, all of it, and no matter what there was nothing to be done about it. Only time will tell, the passive answer every physician will one day murmur, with a bowed head and apprehensive, almost sombre, expression on their face. Three had come to the same conclusion, and as they had known about the dreams, Ella supposed they knew what they were about.

Don’t fail him.

It was all she thought of as she allowed her maids to dress her in silence, perhaps sensing how distant she was and keeping to themselves, or having already been taught that one should not speak unless spoken to. The words echoed with her footsteps, resounding through the corridors as she made her way to an early breakfast, evolving into a mantra screeched obligingly into her ears with every scrape of silver ware on plate, and by the time Ella knew Kit would be readying himself for the day the world were already spinning through her head as she made a point to wander the halls.

It was almost eleven o’clock when she was finally caught, stopping dead in her tracks as the one person she had been avoiding rounded the corner. The pair of them froze, wounded eyes meeting each others, before hastily looking away. Ella felt as though she might weep, seeing the expression of pure puzzlement and hurt on his face, and knowing it was because of her.

~

“Hello.” Was all he said, following a moments pause the tore at both their hearts, needles stabbing into pincushions over and over again until the fabric had been ripped and shredded.

“Hello.” She couldn’t help but notice his posture, conveying both his worry and his relief at finding her at last. “I thought you would be holding court today.” So close to the wedding, this would have been the last time he held court until the honeymoon was over.

“I had more pressing matters to concern me.” He stumbled, eyebrows creasing his forehead as he pondered over her words. He had been clinging on to the hope that she had simply been wandering, not avoiding him as it now was clear she had been. More pressing matters such as locating her, perhaps unravelling through riddles her out of character actions. They hadn’t known each other very long, but he knew her as though they had been inseparable since birth and Kit supposed that she had never acted like this, ever. So distant, cold even, her mind having run away from him and into some darker corner of her thoughts.

“If you would excuse me,” Ella suddenly said, less a request and more a statement, fleeing from him like a sparrow from a cat, flustered and scared. Scared of what? Had it been his mere presence that had ruffled her feathers, or was it some other menace that he symbolised? It hurt him, far more than she would ever know, knowing that he had caused her to run, though she promised she would never. The day he found her he jokingly made her promise that she would never run from him again, and she had agreed blushing, though then he understood that she had run from exposure and midnight, not him.

Hurt, confused and even a little … no, not angry, but certainly frustrated, Kit grabbed her wrist as she passed by him, eyes fixed on the wall away from him, and spun her into him as he pulled the pair of them back into the wall behind him. And, despite her cry of protest, he forced his lips on hers, desperately pleading for a response. Out of breath from running his lips lovingly over frozen ones, he pulled back, and met her eyes that were now full of tears.

“Ella, please, please just tell me.” He begged, curling her hands in his own. She didn’t fight him on that, at least, but there was not much of a response either.

“Kit, I..” She was so close to tears it was painful, her voice cracking as she struggled to find words, and it must have shown on his face, because she looked away, and so again Kit forced intimacy, pulling her closer to him until his she had no choice but to lean on him for support, and just hoped it did her good.

“Ella, there is honestly nothing you could possibly do or say that would make me love you any less.” He assured her, and she felt her body rack with a sob.

“There are a few thing I might not do that could.” She warned, and Kit scoffed, breaking his embrace so that he could see her face.

“Even if you refuse to respond to me and my kisses for all the years we have together I will still love you. Granted, I may become frustrated and utterly exhausted by my efforts, and I may towards the end of my days stop trying,.” Tears were trickling down her face now, and he tried to kiss them away as best he could, though it worked better in theory than practice. “I will never,” one last droplet, “ever,” she was still crying, even when he was kissing away her tears more were replacing them, “stop loving you.”

“That’s not the worst that could happen and you know it.” Ella told him, and somehow it just made sense again for Kit. The physicians report, the uncertain response of ‘time will tell’, just before they discussed her scars.

When they had told him it was like a kick in the gut, but he never spent more than a second thought on it, knowing that it did no good to dwindle on such things. They had both known they wanted children, had both said so, and he assumed that Ella had done the same as him, subconsciously imagining what their children would look like, what they would name them, who would they would most take after, how many they would have and … that perfect future being endangered had been difficult to accept. It would be worse for Ella, obviously, and not because she was a woman, Kit doubted many wanted children more than he did, or because her disposition completely suited a mother’s, but because of how the people would take it. As a queen it would be her duty to produce sons, and it would be her fault if they could not. It was completely unfair, obviously, but it could not be helped.

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ella.” He rushed to tell her. “I mean, obviously it does, but I would not love you any less if-”

“You can’t promise that.” She told him, dismissing his words as soon as they fell on her ears. “You don’t know who you will be in twenty years time.”

“I’ll always be your Kit.” He interjected. “I will always be that foolish apprentice you met in the woods and that nervous prince you met at the ball.” Ella graced him with a slight smile at the mention of his nerves. “And you, my wonderful Ella, will always be my queen.”

“I’m not-” She began to object, but Kit would hear none of it.

“You were a queen even when you scolded me for chasing that deer, even if you can’t see that.” When he laid his lips on her again, hands brushing her waist, she didn’t respond, but her mouth melded with his as she had not allowed it to do before, and Kit bit her lip in frustration, his tongue finding hers, and despite herself Ella moaned.

“I love you, my queen, and I would not scorn you or dismiss you even if it meant I could have a hundred children.” Ella rolled her eyes at that, and Kit felt some life was back in her, some happiness that she had been devoid of before. “Besides, we are young and in love, these things have a way of happening.”

“My Kit, you have quite the ability to make me blush.” Ella responded, finding it in her heart to tease, though her worries had not been completely quelled.

“You make me blush more and you know it.” She was the courageous one, the risk taker and the teasing one, she was more than apt at embarrassing his sensibilities.

“Would it make you blush, my Kit, if you were to kiss me and … touch me, as you did yesterday morning?” Ella asked him, and immediately he turned a shade of red she had never seen before. “In a hallway, as well.” She grinned, and instead of stammering and moving on with the conversation as she had imagined he would, Kit accepted her invitations, to her great surprise and no small amount of delight.


End file.
